


On A Red-Rose Chain

by goldenteaset



Category: Fate/Grand Order, Fate/stay night & Related Fandoms
Genre: Bathing/Washing, Bodily Fluids, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Face-Sitting, Femdom, Fights, Lemon, Loyalty, Mana Transfer, Marathon Sex, Nipple Play, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Overstimulation, Paizuri, Resolved Sexual Tension, Sappy Ending, Service Kink, Set during E Pluribus Unum, Tenderness, Two Shot, Voice Kink, hand kissing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-04
Updated: 2020-07-06
Packaged: 2021-03-04 00:13:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 12,008
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24544423
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/goldenteaset/pseuds/goldenteaset
Summary: “I suppose there’s no harm in you touching me now.”“Why? Are you poisonous?”Sanson bites his lip and glances away, as if ashamed. “…I’m an executioner. So yes, you could say that. I have used these hands to kill…and yet, you wish to touch them. Why?”“People kill all the time,” Medb reminds him, taking his hand in hers. Her thumb rubs gentle circles along his knuckles: back and forth, back and forth. “I kill all the time. Besides, you aren’t my executioner here.”“You have a point.” He sucks in a breath as her circles widen to his wrist. “Then in this place, what am I to you?”She smiles up at him with a hint of teeth. “You’re my plaything, of course.”
Relationships: Charles-Henri Sanson | Assassin/Medb | Rider, Fujimaru Ritsuka/Charles-Henri Sanson | Assassin
Comments: 18
Kudos: 28





	1. "Making My Arms His Field, His Tent My Bed"

**Author's Note:**

> My Sanson has been snatched up by Medb so often (seven times since last NeroFest as of this writing), I figured she must see something in him! Plus nobody else has written anything E-rated with him yet, so...here we are. ^^; 
> 
> The title and chapter titles come from Shakespeare's very first commissioned work, "Venus and Adonis". (Yes, the Bard of Avon got his start writing Classical Myth femdom fanfic! It is a delight. XD)
> 
> Disclaimer: I don't own FGO.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> At the end of E Pluribus Unum, Medb finds a new toy to play with in the form of Sanson...and a chance for revenge against Chaldea's Master in the process.

Medb runs her eyes over the Chaldea Master’s forces, hoping that at least one of them will be worthy of her bed. It’s the least that Master can do after spoiling her plans for this Singularity. Unfortunately, whether it’s the girl with the pouf for a hat or the woman in Eastern clothes and a red jacket, none of them spark much interest. _What a shame. Perhaps another time…_

_…Oh?_

Behind the women, a man’s ice-blue gaze cuts through the mediocrity. His short but fluffy silver hair matches the crumbling architecture around them, and his ankle-length black coat is anything but plain—those bladed horse-shaped pauldrons stand out for miles. But more importantly, when he catches her watching him, his face flushes a pink as sweet as candied fruit.

Oh, yes. This is one to watch out for. But first: to battle.

“Cu,” she sings out, “kill them for me!”

“Sure,” her King intones with a voice like death, lunging toward his prey.

Of course Medb’s itching to join the fight too. Letting Cu have his fun, she chooses to wait and see if that silver-haired man will wield his strange blade. _Why is it shaped like a cross? Is he some sort of holy man? That would be a shame._

“Sanson!” Chaldea’s Master calls out.

The man’s—Sanson’s—blade crashes against Cu’s tail with a horrific _screech_ like a banshee gone mad. Still he pushes forward. The ground crumbles about his boots; he breaks free moments before Cu can crush his sword in his spines.

The sound barrier _cracks_ —a crimson gash blossoms through his shirt. Cu got his hit in after all.

Medb jumps forward, Sanson in her sights. Her whip _thwacks_ into him like a snake; he cries out at its bite. “Wonderful, wonderful!” _Yes, squirm even more—_

Sanson’s blade _whooshes_ past Medb’s head as she jumps away.

“That won’t work!”

Another swing, fiercer still. But not fierce enough: the ground shatters where she once stood.

“Aww, poor thing.” She giggles and twirls a strand of hair between her fingers. “Should I stand very, very still for a moment?”

Silence.

_Wait. Where did he—?_

Pain explodes through her shoulder, and thick red blood showers the ground.

She can’t see anything. Is that her or the blade crying out as it wrenches free?

“Quiet,” Sanson says, his voice winter-cold. “I don’t wish to miss.”

It’s as if she isn’t the beautiful queen of this land.

As if she’s going to die.

“No, please, don’t!” Her cry rings out like a mourning bell.

And Cu’s claw descends.

Sanson screams, his side tearing open like lightning struck it from ribs to waist. How she loves her darling’s work.

But she doesn’t want this potential lover to be _too_ scratched up. His face is quite pretty. Not to mention his interest will wane if he can barely walk.

Fortunately, luck is on her side: Sanson can heal. His fingers may tremble as he hastily stitches his side back together, and he may need his Master’s aid (going by the crimson glow of her Command Seals), but even so he’s back in one piece.

Medb tilts her head and smiles. _Perhaps I’ll do some nursing of you myself, later._

“Stay back,” Cu orders, scattering her thoughts to the wind. “I’ll handle things from here.”

And handle them he does. Soon she can barely see in all the shrapnel and dust being kicked up. Cu’s Gae Bolg ricochets through the chaos, dripping blood like flower petals as it travels. The sight of it never loses its charm, even after she’s seen it a thousand times…

 _Oh, dear! What if he killed Sanson already?_ With a little moue of disappointment she leans forward to get a better look. _Nothing…nothing…that Master’s Command Seals…Cu…ah!_

Finally she spots Sanson. He’s struggling to keep the girl with the hat out of the fray, practically shouldering her behind him. The fierce light in his eyes suggests he’d rather die before her—and will. Even battered as he is, he stands proud before his enemies as a warrior should.

Medb congratulates herself on her tastes and clears her throat. “ _All power is my power!_ ”

With the beginning of her Noble Phantasm comes the rumble of chariot wheels, the iron-shod thud of hooves—sounds no one will hear in all this racket. Not until it’s the perfect time, anyway.

The chariot seat sinks under her backside as she sits; it’s well broken in at this point. She cracks her whip, the sound thrilling her heart like the return of a lover. “ _The authority of government—_ ”

Locked onto its target, the chariot cuts through the battlefield like a comet through the sky. Even that Master can’t stop Medb now.

“— _The steel of oppression—_ ”

Sanson stares up at Medb’s Noble Phantasm like a priest before his god. Has ever a hero looked this sweet? 

“— _The terror of domination._ ” 

She snatches him up before he can blink, tossing him into the back of the chariot to wait for her. The curtains whisk shut behind him, ready for her entrance. 

With a girlish giggle she crawls in after him, knowing she can take her time.

\---

Chariot My Love is far larger than it looks from the outside, mostly because of the four-poster bed as long and wide as a dining hall that serves as her chosen battlefield. Medb brushes the gauzy pink curtains aside and climbs in, admiring her new toy.

Sanson stares back at her from among the village of pillows at the head of the bed, looking less dirty now. He doesn’t quite seem to know where to rest his gaze—a problem which worsens as she crawls toward him, her long, soft hair falling temptingly over her shoulders.

“Er, m-mademoiselle…”

“I am Queen Medb,” she corrects him, stroking the strange black straps around his boots, then the smooth leather itself.

“V-Very well. Queen Medb.” Sanson’s legs twitch as if he’s ticklish. “I’m not sure if you want me here. Everything is…very clean.”

“Then we can clean you to match,” Medb chirps, finally working out the catches on the straps and unfastening them open one by one. “There! These are lovely boots, but they’ll dirty the blankets.”

“Let me help,” Sanson insists quietly, and eases open the little rows of buttons along the sides with methodical precision.

It’s no doubt unintentional, but the slow reveal of his long legs as pale as cream makes for an excellent striptease. And he’s shy about too, his dark lashes lowered demurely. Normally Medb likes her men overconfident, but this one…

“I’ll have a bath prepared, okay?”

“I don’t wish to trouble you—”

“—Of course. That’s why we can bathe together!”

Sanson stares at her as if that option never occurred to him. “S-Someone like me…sharing a bath with a queen like you?” A small, disbelieving smile brightens his face. “I am honored.”

“Good!” Medb claps her hands twice, and a bronze and claw-footed bathtub materializes in front of the bed, water already steaming inside it. “Now you can serve _me_ in return.”

Sanson pauses in the act of toeing off his boots. They hang off his calves like wilting flower petals. “‘Serve you’ how, precisely?”

“Undress me.” She savors every word as if they’re the finest desserts.

“…What.”

“Don’t worry, they aren’t complicated!” To demonstrate, she sets her crown on the coverlet and slides off one glove inch by inch…revealing the black lace arm-warmer underneath it. “Though you may find more layers than expected.” She giggles, then louder as Sanson’s whisper of a laugh joins her.

“I’ll do my best,” he says, and after carefully placing his boots out of harms way he moves to stand before her. She just comes up to his shoulder—perfect. “What would you prefer I remove first?”

Medb points to the crossing belts along her chest and waist. “It’ll make things easier.”

Sanson’s fingers are as deft with fabric as they are needles and flesh; it takes him mere moments to unlock the clasp tucked at her lower back and ease the loose belts over her shoulders. “There—oh!” He startles like a cornered buck as the leather armor protecting her torso falls free, revealing her toned belly. “…I hope that was meant to happen.”

“Of course.” Smiling, Medb raises her foot. “Now for my boots.”

Without hesitation he sinks to one knee. His hair tickles her calf as he keeps his head firmly lowered to his duty. One boot is tugged free, then the other—and here he pauses, his hand trembling over her left sock (already drooping down her leg). It must be distracting, this sudden tantalizing hint of soft skin against his.

So Medb simply _must_ tease him further.

Her breath hitches, and she rests a hand over her heart. “Is something wrong? Do I smell sweaty?”

Sanson jerks his head up then ducks back down again, his ears a kissable pink. “No, not at all! It’s just…your skin is so warm…”

“Then keep going,” she orders, keeping her voice gentle.

“Yes, Queen Medb.” Sanson carefully rolls the sock down her leg inch by inch, audibly sighing in relief when it’s tugged free without a hitch.

Medb slides off the remaining sock in one brisk motion, impatience welling up inside her. “Up you come—I want to undress _you_ now.”

In a series of practiced motions he straightens up, shoulders out of his huge coat and folds it primly beside his boots. “I didn’t want you to cut yourself,” he explains, looking at her hands warily. “I suppose there’s no harm in you touching me now.”

“Why? Are you poisonous?”

He bites his lip and glances away, as if ashamed. “…I’m an executioner. So yes, you could say that. I have used these hands to kill…and yet, you wish to touch them. Why?”

“People kill all the time,” Medb reminds him, taking his hand in hers. Her thumb rubs gentle circles along his knuckles: back and forth, back and forth. “ _I_ kill all the time. Besides, you aren’t my executioner here.”

“You have a point.” He sucks in a breath as her circles widen to his wrist. “Then in this place, what am I to you?”

She smiles up at him with a hint of teeth. “You’re my plaything, of course.” Her hand glides up to his pale red cravat, loosening it. “Hmm…maybe I should teach you first?”

“I was married in life, I know how this works,” Sanson grumbles.

“That’s all well and good, but that won’t help you know what _I_ want, will it?” Without a backward glance she tosses the cravat by his coat. “Next…”

Oh, how he shivers as she unbuttons his crisp white shirt, slipping her hand inside to caress his warm chest before continuing on. Even once the last button falls to her onslaught, she still fondles him here and there: tickling his rosy-pink nipples, dipping her fingers into his navel, smoothing her palms over the sharp curves of his hips. All the while his breathing quickens, ghosting hot and sweet over her hair.

“Queen Medb, I—”

“—Yes?” The swell of his chest fits her hands perfectly; better yet, she can feel his heart fluttering like a moth against the heat of her palms.

“Please…I would kiss you.” 

She takes her time wetting her lips and considers pretending to think about it. But it’s much more fun to tug him down by the collar and claim his lips with hers.

Which she does.

Sanson sways like a reed in a summer breeze, holding her close. As she expected, he only knows mild, soft kisses…but he’s good at them all the same. They tingle against her lips, so sweet.

Medb hungrily slips her tongue into his mouth, devouring him with relentless sweeping strokes. He moans in surprise, and it rumbles through her body like an army on the move. Whoever didn’t teach him deep kissing missed a fine opportunity. _Oh, well. It’s mine now!_

With each eager kiss something hot and firm presses through his trousers against her belly, reminding her that there’s still more to reveal. 

Sanson breaks the kiss, reluctantly glancing at the bath. “The water will get cold.”

“True,” Medb sighs. She hooks her fingers through his belt loops and pulls, revealing his black briefs and the bulge straining to be free of its confines. “How lovely. Well, in you go!”

And she pushes him backwards.

 _Splash_. Water sprays onto the floor, but not as much as she expected. Once the water subsides, she realizes he caught himself just in time, his beautiful fingers clutching at the sides of the tub—though he’s still mostly submerged. He glowers charmingly at her from beneath the dripping hair plastered to his forehead.

“Oh, don’t be like that,” Medb pouts, shedding the meager remnants of her top and letting him have a good look. “You wanted to bathe, right?”

“I…I did, yes.” He ducks his head as she slips off her sheer skirt and scanty silk underwear.

Tempted as she is to toss her underwear at him to see how he reacts, the bath is more important. “I’m coming in,” she sings, and steps into the tub. “Now, where should I sit? Hmm. So many options…before you, behind you, in your lap…”

“Behind, please.” He’s disappointingly calm about this. But then it could be a front.

After slipping in behind him, she wastes no time in pressing up against his back. “Normally I don’t like shy men very much, but I’ll gladly make an exception for you!” Wetting a washcloth, she slowly swirls it over his neck, giggling at the little shiver that accompanies it. “Don’t worry, I’m not going to hurt you…unless you beg me to.”

Sanson shivers again, reaching back to—what? To stop her? That could be fun.

“Is something wrong?”

“Please don’t touch my throat.”

“Oh. That makes sense.” She slides the washcloth behind his ear instead; first one, then the other, enjoying how they redden with the heat. “You haven’t shared a bath with someone before, have you?”

Sanson shakes his head. “In my time, they were not quite so…large. Perhaps the Queen’s was, but for obvious reasons I never saw it.”

Medb hums absently, moving from his ears to his face. “Close your eyes. Oh, and your mouth too!” Beneath the swirling washcloth, her fingers trace his scrunched-up eyelids. “You don’t have to go _this_ far; just close your eyes normally.” She smiles against his shoulder, getting a brief taste of his skin. “Good boy.”

For a time, she keeps to “proper places”, spots a man like Sanson wouldn’t consider erotic: his smooth face, his lithe arms, the firm slope of his spine. But that doesn’t last. Once he starts squirming against her, his hands fumbling for hers as he tries to move them toward his front, she knows he’s ready.

A gasp falls from his lips as she reaches his chest, his nipples hard as marble under the washcloth. “Wh-why does this feel so pleasant…?” He pants for breath as if he’s run a mile. “The nerve endings might be the same as a woman’s, but it’s—”

“—Improper?” She swirls the washcloth over the taut little peaks, grinning as he curves into her touch. “Well, maybe that’s why.” A few flicks of her thumbs, and he’s wracked with delicious shivers. “Did that feel good?”

“Y-Yes. My nipples…they feel so good…”

“You know,” she says, not stopping, “if we play with these for a long time, they’ll grow…and feel even better.” Her hair brushes his shoulder. “I would like that.”

Sanson practically shoves his chest into her hands. “Please, please—!”

What a lovely catch she’s made. “My, my, you’re so greedy, Sanson!” She trails the washcloth down his quivering belly to the drenched fabric of his briefs. “Can you see? Your toy here wants some attention too.”

The water churns as Sanson bucks against her hand, his knees angling toward his chest. “‘My _toy_ ’? N-No, that’s my…my erection.”

“How plain,” Medb pouts. She grazes her nails over the bulge until his hips jolt again. “Oh, I know! You need to learn how to play with it. Or have someone else play with it—either one is fine by me!”

Sanson clicks his tongue in annoyance. “What insolence! Of _course_ I knowhow to relieve myself.”

“Then show me,” Medb purrs, retracting her touch. “Oh, but don’t take off your underwear just yet! I’ll take care of that.” 

Another tongue-click. His hands creep toward his soaked briefs as if afraid they’ll fall off without warning. They don’t, of course. A finger catches on the waistband, giving a glimpse of damp curls the color of steel at dusk. Then he changes his mind and cups the bulge from the outside instead—perhaps he thinks that will buy more time.

“It’s twitching! I see, you like it on the tip.”

He hums noncommittally and continues his steady rubbing. With another, more urgent hum he shoves his hand down his briefs and speeds up as if he’s determined to chafe himself raw. Worse: the flesh she can see is already a troubling red.

“Wait, wait, stop!” Medb grabs his wrist and forces it away from his poor abused toy. “You mustn’t do it like _that_ , or you’ll hurt yourself.”

Sanson blinks at her in confusion. “…But you wanted me to climax. Was I mistaken?”

“…Let’s return to that later,” she evades, letting go of his wrist and focusing her attention on his thighs. Tiny hairs tickle her fingertips. “Gently, gently…does this feel good?”

Sanson’s hips jolt again. “T-Tickles.”

“Now, higher…how’s that?”

“That feels better.” He leans back against her in increments, as if afraid he’ll crush her under his weight. “A-Are you certain you’re comfortable?”

“Of course!” Medb swirls the tips of her fingers along his bulge, favoring the head just as he did. “I have a perfect view.”

She continues like this for a while, caressing him all over until he’s rutting against her hands in slick desperation. The muscles of his pale legs shudder with each touch. Any second now he’ll climax, staining his briefs a milky white.

Then—just as he pulses in her palms—she lets go, leaving him keening on all fours.

“What…why…?!”

“A lady’s pleasure always comes first.” Slipping out from behind his back, she sits before him expectantly. “Well? Aren’t you going to wash me, too?”

His expression cools, hardens. “…Only if you _swear_ on your honor that you won’t tease me again.”

“Oh, is that all?” Her icy giggle fills the room. “But”—she stretches the word out like taffy—“you _love_ it, don’t you?”

Sanson scowls and shoves his hair back from his eyes. “That’s…” He glances at her hands, and his erection noticeably strains in his briefs. The sigh that explodes from him makes his chest heave. “…Very well, I do. But I would rather serve you without interruption for a while.”

Medb could clap her hands with glee. “Wonderful!” She hands him a fresh washcloth and bar of soap, the scent of vanilla wafting into the air. “Here you go.”

A nod. He takes his time soaping up the cloth, lost in thought. “Please close your eyes, Queen Medb.” It seems he’ll never call her anything but her formal name. How disappointing.

 _Still_ , she admits as Sanson’s hands descend on her hair, _he’s quite good at this._ Her head bows slightly as his fingers ease beyond her hair into her scalp, giving gentle scratches as they travel. Even the soap itself feels different this way—softer. He pays attention to her hair as well: each strand seems to glide along his hands as he works out the smallest tangle. (Which pinches all the way to her head, but it’s worth it.)

He will be an excellent lover. She’s certain of it now.

“Queen Medb?” He pauses at her neck. “Is something wrong?”

“Oh, it’s nothing,” she says sweetly. “I was just thinking your Master is very lucky to have you.”

Sanson stays still, his brows furrowed. Then he speaks with the careful deliberation of one who feels many things toward the person they're describing, not all of them professional. “Hmm…I feel it’s the opposite. She is a kind and just person, and I will follow her wherever she leads me.” There’s a glimpse of a smile as serene as a still lake. “Now and always.” 

That he can still praise—let alone _think_ —of another woman in Medb’s presence is troubling. At this point his head should be buried between her legs and begging for her to use his body as she sees fit, or on his back waiting for her to ride him like the tamed beast he should be. No, that should happen as soon as she entered this Reality Marble.

_This isn’t fair!_

“I see,” Medb says, spinning the web of a plan. “And the mana transfer?”

“I beg your pardon?” He stares at her with an utterly befuddled look on his face—perhaps he genuinely doesn’t know. “Merely being in her presence should fill me with mana.”

She giggles coldly. “Oh, dear! Your Master hasn’t taught you very much about being a Servant, has she?”

“I know how to serve,” he insists, understanding beginning to dawn in his eyes. “It’s just that…to be intimate with Master, I could never do such a thing!”

“Never?” She leans forward, easing his briefs down his thighs until his adorably enthusiastic erection bounces free of its soaked confines. “Not even if you were going to die?” A pause. "I'm not going to kill you, don't worry! It's just...hypothetical."

Sanson looks at her, his shoulders tense with uncertainty. Then he sighs, the sound as forlorn as any maiden’s. “It’s true, my death would sadden her.” He helps remove his briefs the rest of the way, hanging them over the rim of the tub. “However, our mana transfer has been efficient as it is.”

Now it’s Medb’s turn to sigh. “So it’s ‘that’ sort of relationship, huh…how boring!” Pursing her lips with annoyance, she takes Sanson’s hand and brings it to her plump breast. “But then again, that means you aren’t cheating on her with me, right?”

Sanson nods, his eyes darting nervously from her chest to her face. Then he carefully, carefully runs the soapy washcloth over the curve of her breast, like he's polishing an idol.

“That's it, just like that...”

There’s something intoxicating about Sanson’s warm hands lathering her flesh with soap. Perhaps it’s his slow transformation from awkward and uncertain to confident and worshipful. Or maybe it’s from his hands warm against her skin. Regardless: the more he strokes and massages her sensitive breasts with such care, the more eager she is to see what else he’s capable of.

“Sanson,” she croons, “let me kiss you again.”

He leans forward with his lips parted, his eyes dreamy with lust. This time he accepts her tongue delving inside him without pause; he must adore the tingling of their mouths together. “Mm…Queen Medb, I…” He crushes his lips to hers as if it’s all he desires.

She wallows in the dreamy haze bubbling in her mind until her lips grow numb from Sanson’s relentless touch. _Too bad…_ She breaks the kiss, enjoying the sticky sound that follows. “Let’s get out of the bath before we turn into prunes, okay?” Her breathy giggle fans against his flushed cheeks.

“Of course.” Sanson blinks as the tub vanishes before their eyes, leaving them both standing in towels. Then he shakes his head and smiles ruefully. “Ah, now I remember—this is your Reality Marble. You can reorder things as you wish.”

“Exactly!” Medb preens. “Here, let’s dry each other off…”

“That seems reasonable— _ah_!” Sanson twitches as she goes straight for his nipples. “Our hair should be washed first,” he manages, and true to his word gives Medb’s hair a brisk toweling. Disappointingly the fabric blocks her view, save for a few flickers of light.

“Your touch is rougher than before,” she teases—and he relents.

“A thousand…” His words trail off as he takes in her tussled hair gleaming like rose quartz in the candlelight. “…Apologies.”

“You’re still so formal,” she sighs, and decides to follow his example. His embarrassed-yet-pleased face as she gently towels his hair dry is too amusing to pass up.

“May I…?”

“I’m drying off just fine. You really _must_ learn to relax!”

“Heh.” Sanson’s nose scrunches up slightly. “Unfortunately, you aren’t the first person to give that advice…”

“Maybe _I’ll_ convince you to follow it!” She falls into Sanson’s arms without bothering to see if he’ll catch her—she knows he will. “Carry me to bed.”

Sanson nods agreeably and cradles her close to his chest. “Hm?” He blinks down at her in mild surprise. “Your hair is tickling my knees.”

She grins at him without a shred of remorse. “Oops!”

With a snort—perhaps of amusement—he drapes her onto the bed, climbing in after her. “How may I serve you now?”

In response she rolls him onto his back, straddling his head. “That’s easy,” she chirps, slowly sinking down onto him until she can feel his breath against her throbbing sex. “Just keep your hands at your sides…and say ‘aaah’!”

Sanson’s acquiescence is muffled as she completes her descent, settling onto her new throne. The view is quite lovely. His eyes widen with surprise as he awkwardly tries to lap at her folds—this is not his area of expertise. (Another loss for his dead wife.) Even so, hot pleasure ripples out from where his wet, eager mouth sets to work; that desire to please is quite useful.

His hair is soft as thistledown between her fingers. “Lick harder—ah, yes—savor my taste…!”

Sanson’s rising moans vibrate against her flesh like swords crashing against shields. If she bothers to look, she can see his fingers digging into the sheets, desperately straining to heed her orders.

Laughing, she rocks against him, surrounding him in her taste and scent. “You need to— _mm_ —use your whole mouth, everywhere!” Her thighs tremble. “Pretend your sucking honey off me.”

His response is exactly what she hoped for: he redoubles his efforts, suckling on her swelling folds with the fervor of a starving man. It’s still unskilled, of course, but if he’s _this_ eager to learn…

“Here.” She makes a show of turning about to face his legs. “Since you’re working so hard…I’ll give you a treat.”

“ _Mmph_?!” Sanson’s mouth jolts between Medb’s legs as she rips off his towel with little fanfare. His erection twitches to new life from the barest brush of air on his flesh.

“I’m glad you’re ready to play.” After lathering her hand with spit, she leisurely rolls her palm over his hot tip as his body coils into this new sensation. “You’re _adorable_ , Sanson. With just a few strokes up and down…and teasing the head…you’re already this wet. I love it!”

Sanson’s longing whine could make even the heart of Medb’s beloved Cu melt. But not Medb's—no, it just melts her restraint. 

"Here's your first lesson," she declares merrily, as she pulls her hand away yet again. "The Queen is always first!"

The lesson is long and thorough. After all, they have hours and days and weeks in here, if she wishes it.

And she does. She drenches his face with her release, has him suckle her breasts until they’re soaked and tingling, grinds against his beautiful fingers until they cramp, and seats his thick, trembling toy inside her in slow, terrible increments before riding him as thoroughly as any wild stallion that needs breaking in. And all the while she ensures that he never receives climax. She always moves away just as he starts to quiver and pulse, and each time his pleas only grow more desperate.

Again and again, granting him the honor of being swallowed up between her molten, undulating walls. 

Again and again, as his cold exterior melts into a starving, wanton fever.

Again and again, until he wants nothing more than to be loved and used...even if his very soul gives out.

“Queen Medb—just once, I beg of you—!” Her pale juices drip down his chin, the smooth grooves of his chest, his slippery toy.

Medb sighs like a maiden in a fairytale. “What beautiful eyes you have when you’re desperate and aching…” And then uses his face once more so that she can see those eyes better. 

_In fact_ —she smiles secretively to herself— _it might be best if I simply end this here._ After all, now that he knows her flavor he’ll never forget it. _Let him stew over this a bit until we meet again!_

But of course, she has to ride out the pulsating, molten pleasure he’s dutifully providing to its conclusion. Clenching him between her thighs, she focuses all her thoughts on the delicious slide of Sanson’s hot tongue, the tickle of his smile, how quickly he’s learned her tastes. _Wonderful…_ Her hair bounces wildly along her back and shoulders as her heart gallops in her chest. _…This is wonderful!_

Ripple upon ripple of heat thrums through every vein in her body. Delighted cries fill the sultry air, almost smothering Sanson’s sweet whimpers.

He doesn’t stop pleasing her—he drinks deep and long, even as it threatens to choke him. Even though he has already coaxed countless releases from her, he still manages one last little ripple before his head falls back, exhausted. 

“Sanson.” She raises her hips, sliding free of his mouth with a deliciously lewd _pop_. “I’ve decided to reward you for your hard work, so cherish it!”

“…Of course.” His words are fuzzy as he tries to speak. “What kind of…reward?”

Giggling, Medb climbs off him and gets comfortable next to his waist. “Isn’t it obvious? There’s no point in a toy that can’t be played with.”

“Oh, thank you—!” To an untrained eye, his tilted smile may look unenthusiastic, but the wild heat flickering behind his pale eyes shows his true longing.

“I wasn’t going to just take from you, you know,” she pouts, dragging her fingers along his erection as it trembles with need. “Especially not after you’ve been so good!”

This is not _technically_ true, of course; but a little praise gets him wet and willing exactly the way she prefers. His hips rise and fall in time with her hand, so in tune with her rhythm now. And when she brings her lips down to taste—

“— _Ah_!” He jolts with a voice sweet as spring honey. “Yes, my penis—play with it, _please_ —”

“ _Wrong_.” She exhales against his swollen tip, smiling as he whimpers. “It’s your toy, remember?”

His hips arch off the bed, a petitioner yearning for her absolution. “Yes, _yes_ , it’s my toy...n-no, _yours_...so please play with it as you like!”

“ _Such_ a good boy.” Their flavors mix well together, unadorned salt and musk. As she takes her time caressing him with her lips and tongue, her mind wanders. _How would your Master react to this, I wonder? Would her face grow pale as betrayal hits her? Or maybe…_ She swirls her tongue around the leaking tip, tasting brine. _…Maybe she’d want a taste? Too bad; I would have you both beg for it._

Sanson pants like he’s scaling a mountain, his chest decorated with glistening sweat.

“You’re close, hmm?” She lets her hair tickle his inner thighs and giggles at the gooseflesh that greets it. “I can help you.” With that, she engulfs his erection with her soft breasts.

It truly won’t be long now. Greater heroes than Sanson have succumbed to this rarest of delights, and he’s been ready to burst for quite some time. A little saliva will smooth things along further—and give him a lovelier view.

“How wonderful,” she croons, massaging him. “I can feel your every throb…!”

Sanson’s hips rock frantically into the slick, ripe bounty of her breasts. Each sticky, sliding sensation makes Medb’s heart warm with pride; isn’t Sanson lucky to have met her, to experience this? They thrust together, his drenched tip peeking out for her to savor before disappearing again. The process repeats, over and over, until—

“—This, this is too…!” Sanson splays his forearm over his eyes, unable to look upon her any longer. His back arching like a bow pulled taut, he thrusts one final time with an animalistic shout, pulsing seed in burst after burst until her cleavage and chest is decorated in hot pearls. It seems he was holding back more than expected.

“ _Well_ ,” Medb says with a laugh, letting Sanson’s sex fall free from her grip like the discarded toy that it is, “you must feel much better now!”

Sanson struggles to catch his breath, drenched and debauched without a hint of strength to his bones. “Apologies,” he rasps. “I…I have nothing left to give…”

“That’s fine,” she assures him, glowing with pride at her work. “You look handsome this way, too.”

After a poor excuse for a rest, Sanson struggles to sit up and fumbles about for his clothes like a drunkard after a revel. “We should return soon,” he mutters, his ears still flushed pink.

“Perhaps,” she says with a grin, not even bothering to get dressed. “I don’t think you want to…right?”

Sanson pauses in the act of unfolding his shirt. “B-But I told you—”

“I know what you said,” Medb replies testily. “I can _also_ see the sweet embers in your eyes.” Her fingertips flow along his spine in time with the droplets of sweat. “You love serving me…very, very much.”

“Y-Yes…” His breath catches in his throat. “I do…”

Medb grins, and the chariot’s curtains are drawn back to let in the cold light of reality. “Then even if you kill me out there, you won’t mind if I invite you here again some other time? Your training isn’t done yet, you know.”

Sanson nods, looking adorably dumbstruck.

“Oh, and one _last_ little thing…” She brings her lips to his ear, ensuring that he feels every tickling touch of her hair and breath. “…I won’t just train you for my sake, but your Master’s too. That’s a promise.”

He smiles like he’s received her favor after winning a tournament. Until her next words, that is.

“So don’t forget to play with your toy every evening, okay? But don’t release until you see me again…or you need mana.”

“Until then?" Sanson’s throat bobs as he glances worriedly down at his waist. "But that could be _months_ from now…!”

“Remember,” she croons, “your Master can help.”

After a few moments of consideration, he takes her hand in his and gives it as firm a shake as he can currently manage. “V-Very well; we have an accord.”

 _I hope your Master will be able to handle you when I'm finished. And if not, well...she'll be too busy enjoying her new lover to interfere with my plans ever again!_ Oh, Medb wishes she could spy on Chaldea _just_ to see how this plays out. 


	2. "He Hath Learned to Toy, to Wanton, Dally, Smile and Jest"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> During Nerofest, it seems Sanson isn't the only one getting overwhelmed by Medb's training. Fortunately, Sanson has no problem with reminding Ritsuka of who he's _really_ honored to serve.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Marathon sex and lustful Sanson are a surprisingly difficult combo to write, but it was fun to work on it until I got it! (I'm definitely going to write something more plot-heavy after this, though, for variety's sake. ^^;)

Sanson isn’t sure if he should be pleased that Queen Medb kept her promise to him, but he is. Today was their sixth training session—or rather, half of one. Even for Nerofest, this fight ended more abruptly than he’d like to admit; despite Sanson and Shiki’s best efforts, Medb still left the arena with another victory.

Which is a shame, as her dazzling kicks were enough to bring a tremble to his knees, eager to let his vision be overwhelmed by her pure white skirts once more.

 _…Perhaps that explains my current state._ Beneath his many layers of clothes, he can feel every shift of fabric on his flesh in minute detail—and each tiny touch reminds him of what _might_ have happened in Medb’s Reality Marble had his Master’s order to evade attacks not been in effect.

These days, he finds himself thinking of such things often. And of his Master’s swimsuit Mystic Code…which she only seems to wear when he’s around. A loyal Servant shouldn’t think of his Master’s long, smooth legs, or how easy the halter top would be to unhook, or wonder how she’d look in the afterglow. And yet here he is.

_Why does it feel less strange now?_

Perhaps it’s because of his Master’s responses to Medb’s training regimen. At first, she seemed to take no notice. But around the third time—when Sanson stumbled out of Medb’s chariot and looked at her with more fire than a Servant probably should—she made for her quarters as soon as the battle was over. And didn’t come out for some time.

Again and again it happens, and each time Sanson’s blood sings with strange delight. He hasn’t brought himself to _ask_ his Master about her reactions yet, but…they certainly make his scheduled “play” more enjoyable.

 _Speaking of which, it’s almost evening._ He practically salivates at the thought.

It feels like it takes a thousand years for him to arrive at his room, so much like his Master’s. The electric door sliding closed behind him with a _click_ stirs something in his chest: he slides off his coat and drapes it over a nearby chair with more fluidity than a fool like Mozart expects him to possess.

With a sigh, Sanson decides to shower and remove some of the grime and blood of battle. The plain white tiles are sterile enough to easily distract him.

Just stripping down is a relief. Cool air cocoons his skin, sending goosebumps madly racing along his spine. As his feet skitter along the icy tiles, the promise of cleanliness is near at hand. The glass door’s harsh rattle—which usually annoys him—is a welcome sound today. _Warm water should work._ The shower knob _squeaks_ as he turns it.

Sanson must admit, creating “a personal torrent of rain” is one of humanity’s finest achievements.

But as the hot water rains down on his skin, he finds that his mind eternally returns to his Master…and Medb. _It seems she had many things planned today, yet now my amateur mind can only guess as to what they were._ Though perhaps he’s underestimating himself: didn’t Medb grant what fantasies he dared explain to her an approving smile?

 _No, I shouldn’t think such things!_ Sanson scrubs his hair hard enough to make his scalp itch. It seems his plan to get them out of his head is doomed to fail. Still, he’ll keep trying.

To begin with, it’s not as though Medb truly cares for him. As she said back when they first met, he’s just her “toy”…

And that thought sends pleasant tingles down his neck.

No matter how keenly he’s aware of her selfishness, he can’t resist giving her pleasure and receiving it in return. It’s as if she awakens something primal in him beyond anything he knew in life. Her spicy scent will fill his nose, and he’ll long to bury his face in her flesh and breathe it in forever.

Sanson’s finger tickles his lips as he tries capturing the drugging charm of Medb’s kisses. He can almost hear her crooning _“You love this, don’t you?”_ into his reddening ears. The shower muffles his hum of agreement.

The wall tiles chill his back. “More,” he whispers, dragging his hands down his neck to his chest. His nipples harden like marble at the barest suggestion of touch. “Please, more…!”

Fondling his nipples until they ache and tauten, it doesn’t take long before his erection quickens to life. He doesn’t touch there—not yet. He needs to wait until his mind empties of everything except “feeling good”: Medb’s orders.

As if searching for an oasis, his mind conjures up a fantasy…

_His Master smiles up at him from her kneeling position between his legs, not minding the shower pouring down on their bare skin. “Let me help, okay?” She leans forward, rolling her tongue gently over his swelling sac, her wet eyelashes fluttering closed as she savors his taste._

_“M-Master…!” The back of his head bumps softly against the cold, slippery wall, as his waist starts to rock into her touch. “If you do that, I—I’ll—”_

_Her eyes as orange as sunset shine bright with mischief, and she pulls away. “Okay, then here!” Rising up like the tide, she takes his hand and eases it between her legs, her beautiful sex pulsing with delicious mana…_

“…Mana…” Sanson licks his lips, his mind galloping toward a conclusion he should have reached months ago. He palms his aching chest, panting. “Yes. This isn’t enough!”

A thought skitters through his head like a stone skipping across water. Mana Transfer has many methods, and not all of them would ruin the relationship between him and his Master. Surely other Servants do the same? _It only has to be once…_

…However. As he hesitantly reaches down to cup himself, massaging as slow as he can in order to keep himself from climaxing too soon, he reconsiders. _Do I_ need _mana? Or is it…something else?_

A delicious ache settles into his belly as he drags his fingertips along his swollen sac. Oh, he can almost taste his Master’s fluids on his tongue, feel her hot folds gripping his toy with slow firmness. What he wouldn’t give to show her even an eighth of the skills Medb taught him.

“ _Master_.” Sanson’s voice, normally so composed, trickles out of him like warm honey. “Master, please, look…!”

With deliberate slowness he sinks down onto the wet tile, his wet, milk-pale thighs inching open for the viewing pleasure of an invisible audience. Enough of his propriety remains intact to ensure he doesn’t spread them _too_ wide; he doubts he’ll ever match Medb’s charming shamelessness. _Still…when I think about Master seeing me like this, it feels wonderful!_

Even with the water's heat, goosebumps rise along his flesh. It was definitely a good thing he waited to play with his toy. Every delicate touch feels like flames licking against him, bringing him yet more pleasure.

“Mm…” The rigid, rosy peak of Sanson’s nipple tingles deliciously under his thumb. “…I _love_ teasing myself for you, Master.” His knees rub together as if eager for more friction.

Sanson sucks in a shaky breath as he stares down at his slowly-rocking waist, the feather-light rise and fall of his trembling hand. _Can I_ manage _just teasing today?_ He imagines his Master’s hungry expression as she watches him cry out and spill thick pearls of semen over his quivering belly in carnal offering. _…Yes. But only if she is here._

That decides it. He needs his Master, and _soon._

With some reluctance, he turns his mind away from pleasure and to showering instead. It only staves off a bit of the lust flowing ceaselessly through his veins—but even “a bit” will help. (Besides, he would hate to waste water.)

\---

Stumbling out of the shower—even a brisk toweling sends heat pulsing into his belly—Sanson snatches the phone at his bedside table and clumsily dashes out the number for his Master’s cell.

“ _Sanson?_ ” She sounds more concerned for him than expected. And a bit nervous, as if he just interrupted something.

“Are you well, Master?” The air conditioner gusts cool air along his bare back, tickling icy fingers up his spine.

“ _Well, uh, no! I mean, yes!_ ” Fabric shiftson the other end of the line. Is it Sanson’s imagination, or is something…buzzing near Master? Whatever it is, it gets switched off with a decisive _click._ “ _It’s fine! Just fine!_ ”

“…I see.” He can’t help but smile at the possibility that they’re both in similar straits. “I am also ‘just fine'. Though I _do_ have a request for you. If I may?”

“ _Sure, I’d be happy to help!_ ” She certainly does sound happy—far more so than expected. Almost overeager.

How did he plan to put this? He can’t recall. Taking a deep breath, he at last says “Master…I’m afraid I need mana. If you would—”

“ _—Yes!_ ” Her voice _crackles_ harshly against the receiver. “ _Come to my room, quick!_ ”

Well. That answers that.

“I’ll be there soon,” Sanson assures her, glancing over at a discreet black box he tucked away beneath his bed. It’s something he asked Da Vinci for a few months ago. “I just need to put something on.”

\---

 _Oh God, did I sound strange?_ Ritsuka tosses her vibrator back into the desk drawer and narrowly misses trapping her fingers as she slams it shut. _Did he finally figure it out?_

Chaldea’s white and black uniform feels too tight against her body, like it always does before she masturbates. Normally she wouldn’t notice or care if she blends in with her room’s whitewashed walls and the pristine bed, but right now she feels like she needs color. _Maybe my swimsuit?_ As it is, only her hair and eyes will break through the dreary whiteness.

When she turns down the lights, the atmosphere feels…better. More romantic. It’s a start, at least.

When Sanson strolls into her room without his coat, hair still slightly damp, her worries grind to a halt. Even after all this time, his very presence feels so…calming. Like gentle snowfall at night. _Well, I guess it’s too late to change._

“Have a seat!” she chirps, patting the bed invitingly. “We need to be close for mana transfer, right?” She looks him over, once again stunned by the sultry sway in his step he’s gained since he met Medb. _A change only I can see._ “And besides…I want to make sure you’re okay.”

“Of course. However, before I do…” Sanson reaches into his pockets and takes out two small white candles, like the kind some people put on tubs’ rims to spice up their bath. “…I thought we could use these to make this feel special.”

“Sure,” she says, and Sanson obediently places the candles on the bedside table—to her surprise they don’t need matches to light up. “Huh. So these are vanilla-scented, but…electric? How?”

He smiles crookedly. “Da Vinci made them for me a few months ago, just in case I needed your favorite scent ‘for some reason’.”

“That was nice of her.” In the soft lighting, his eyes look like the pale silver sky of early morning.

“Indeed.” The bed dips slightly as he sits down beside her, an inch too close than usual.

Ritsuka glances at his elegant, pale fingers from the corner of her eye. Looks away. “Medb sure has a thing for you, huh? You’ve vanished into her chariot more than anyone else.”

“You—you really _did_ notice?” It seems he _can_ still blush with embarrassment after all.

She sighs and drags annoyed fingers through her hair. “Of _course_ I did! I know what she’s been doing to you in there, _and_ I know that it’s been…changing you, bit by bit.” She reconsiders. “Or maybe you’re not ‘changed’ so much as something inside you ‘woke up’. Either way!”

Sanson fidgets with his hands. “I…I suppose you’re right.” He looks at her askance. “Does that make you jealous? Because Medb will surely take advantage of that.”

“Of course n—” Ritsuka pauses. Snaps her mouth shut so harshly her teeth ache. “—Okay, I _did_ agree right off when you asked for mana, so…I guess you’re right.” Sighing, she leans up, close enough to brush her forehead against his. The scent of mint shampoo and his warm, soft hair overwhelms her senses.

Sanson’s lips part, but he doesn’t say anything. They look so soft and inviting…

“You’re holding back, aren’t you?” A heated whisper from the depths of her heart. “Show me what you and Medb do together.”

Sanson pulls back slightly, considers. Empires could rise and fall in the time it takes for him to make a decision. Then: “Give me your hand, Master.”

Ritsuka does so, her red Command Seals almost ink-black in this creamy orange lighting. She _thought_ she was prepared for anything…but the delicate touch of his fingers around her wrist sends her heart swelling in her chest. Sanson’s skin is so warm and soft; his hands make hers feel tiny as Marie’s.

“Beautiful,” he says, his voice as quiet and gentle as always. But…there’s a hint of heat in his words, in his breath as it ghosts along her knuckles.

Part of her wants to say something, to break this strange tension that’s suddenly around them, but what could she say? She stares at him, unable to look away as his gaze locks with hers…

…And he kisses her hand, his lips stunningly soft on her skin.

In practical terms, it’s nothing special: knights kissed their liege’s ring to show loyalty all the time. But here in this moment, with Sanson’s eyes fluttering closed, the wet, hot tip of his tongue nearly grazing her veins, tasting her quickening pulse? There’s nothing “practical” about this.

After what feels like forever, Sanson lifts his head, his eyes open again and probing. “This may be redundant,” he murmurs, “but you are _not_ Queen Medb. And that is as it should be.”

“Then you won’t show me?” Ritsuka tries and fails to keep the disappointment from her voice.

He smiles wryly and shakes his head. “Of course I will, Master. Lie back on the pillows, if you please.”

Ritsuka does as suggested, her hands resting on her belly. “Okay. Now what?”

Sanson seems to steel himself and looks at her directly. “First, I will ‘perform’ for you. Please keep your eyes on me, Master.”

“…Okay?” (She decides not to tell him she’s fantasized about that before.)

Untying his cravat with steady fingers, Sanson reveals his pale neck to her—and the delicate, rose-red velvet collar adorning it. The little crimson bell at the center jingles as if glad to be free.

Ritsuka gulps, hardly daring to believe it. “Is…is that a…?”

“Yes, and it’s yours,” Sanson assures her, those simple, sincere words sending delighted fire through her veins.

Now for his shirt buttons. He takes his time with these, trembling as Ritsuka’s eyes follow the inches of bared skin each unbuttoning unveils. The shirt glides off his shoulders and behind him onto the mattress. The room must be colder than expected; his rosy-pink nipples swell to attention, and without pausing he captures them between his fingers.

“Did you know?” he breathes, rubbing them into full, delicious hardness. “Men’s nipples are just as pleasurable as women’s.”

“I didn’t,” Ritsuka squeaks, feeling like she’s looking at a fallen angel fresh from the heavens. “They look…pretty…”

Sanson chuckles, as sweet as fresh spring air. “I’m honored. Though I’m sure yours are even more beautiful.”

Ritsuka’s cheeks burn. “I don’t know about that!”

“Why?” He shrugs. “In any event…I should show you this as well.”

Shadowy tendrils sprout from behind his back. _Isn’t this…his Noble Phantasm? No, it’s different somehow._ Some tendrils drag elegant fingers along his torso to his thighs, while others unbutton his trousers and ease them down enough to tickle his flesh and show off the growing bulge in his red briefs.

“That’s so _cool_ ,” Ritsuka whispers, unbuckling the belts around her jacket. “Are they soft?”

“As velvet.” He flicks his nipples, sending his eyelashes fluttering. “Mm…! C-Can you see how my body’s reacting to this?” The tendrils rub his straining briefs with what can only be expertise from Medb’s training. At this rate, the tip will peek out and drip all over the sheets…

“Y-Yeah, I see it.” Ritsuka’s hand disappears inside her jacket, her too-hot fingers making vague indents in the fabric. “Is it okay if I…?”

“Certainly.” He doesn’t bother trying to hide the hunger in his eyes.

Ritsuka’s breathing quickens, her hands crawling about her body faster than Sanson’s probably will. “What—what else can your shadows do?”

“They can touch you, if you wish.”

“Oh! Um…let’s try it.”

Nodding, Sanson sends out more shadows to slither toward Ritsuka. They _are_ soft…and warm like flesh. They wind up her legs, ease her jacket from her shoulders, flicker like tongues against her reddening ears. The bed _creaks_ as she fidgets—

“—Master, how is it?” Sanson peers down at her, searching for anything amiss.

“Y-Yes, I’m okay.” Then, softer, “They’re warmer than I expected.”

Sanson blinks in surprise. “Yes, I suppose they are.” He tips his head back and sighs as a few tentacles slip inside his briefs, massaging his firm, full erection until wetness stains the fabric. His fingers remain at his nipples as they torment them with pleasure. It’s as if he’s a living chiaroscuro painting—light and shadow mingling into one.

 _God…I could watch this all day!_

Ritsuka gasps as the tentacles playing about her body take their time hiking her shirt up past her armpits, then unclasping her practical black bra at the front. The air _is_ a bit chilly. If not for her hands covering her flushed breasts, they would tumble free like ripe fruit. “Um, my skirt too—”

The tentacles heed her request, the rasp of the zipper as harsh as two stones scraping together. As the neatly-halved skirt falls away, the tentacles about her legs flow upwards, massaging as they go.

“Master,” Sanson breathes, looking ready to fall on all fours atop her, “How does it feel?”

Ritsuka’s hips jolt as the tentacles trace the tender curves of her breasts and around the seam of her thin pantyhose. “I-It feels good…what about you?”

“I agree.” His breath catches as her pantyhose grows damp, tighter. Does he smell her wetness?

She tries to project trust out through her gaze. Because she _does_ trust him, and Medb’s training wouldn’t mean jack if that wasn’t the case.

Sanson’s response is more than she expected.

“Master…you’re beautiful…!” Bending down, he presses reverent lips to her trembling foot. His breath is like summer heat. “If I may, I wish to kiss you—”

Ritsuka bolts upright and tugs him toward her face. His breath is hot on her skin. “—I want it, I want it too, so please—!”

Sanson grazes their lips together, and she revels in the softness that greets her. “You taste sweet,” he murmurs, and her surprised moan tingles between their kiss. The tentacles slide stickily between their bodies, continuing to stoke their passion.

Ritsuka’s hands glide over his back, clutching at him for purchase amidst this flow of pleasure. Each time their mouths play together, she can’t help but whimper and roll her hips against his, needing more and more. “Sanson,” she breaks the kiss for a moment, “your tongue…deeper…”

“Like this?” He flickers his tongue against hers, and her spine tingles at the sticky warmth that follows. “Your mana is…so fresh and sweet…like water from a mountain lake.”

Then, abruptly, he stops, and the tendrils aren’t touching him now.

“What is it?” Ritsuka asks worriedly, looking up at him.

“Oh…n-nothing.” He smiles and buries his face into her neck just as her pulse quickens. “You’re beautiful, Master. Did you know that?”

“Thanks,” she murmurs, flustered. “Y-You too.”

With a soft chuckle, he moves to rest his lips by her ear. “Are my shadows to your liking?”

“Yeah”—Her hips press against his, sweaty and hot—“they feel…really good…”

Between them, the tentacles continue rubbing against her clitoris, turning it sweetly swollen from their touch. Her tiny bulge pressing against his erection and his soft, eager pants send her mind in a whirl of lust.

“San…son…!” Ritsuka’s breasts press soft and smooth against his chest. “Please—play with my nipples too—”

Heeding her request, he kisses his way down her neck to the soft swell of her chest, sending sweet sparks along her skin as he goes. The tentacles obediently move out of his way. As they do so, they head between Ritsuka’s trembling thighs, where they join their brethren in caressing her into scorching arousal.

Ritsuka squeaks as Sanson maps out her curves with his lips and tongue. “Your mouth is so hot…a-and gentle…”

“Good,” he purrs between licks, his gaze so warm with affection it makes her cheeks burn. “Use me as much as you wish.”

She smiles, stroking his soft, thick hair. “That goes…for you too.”

“Th-thank you. But Master…” Sanson’s tongue trembles as he moans against her hardening areola. “…I _want_ you to use me. To fill me with mana, until I can’t take any more…!”

Since she can’t find the words, she just nods instead.

“Thank you, Master,” he says heatedly, and with great care draws her nipple into his molten, eager mouth.

Her body jolts at the wet pull of his lips. There’s something relentless about him as his hungry moans vibrate against her chest, the way he gently presses the warm, tingling flesh of her breasts together so he can take in both at once. His every gesture seems…shameless. Like he’s been starved for sex.

More specifically, sex with _her._

“So delicious,” he murmurs, before diving back in to sample her taut, glistening nipples some more. The hard ridge of his arousal is pressing against her thigh, as if to remind her that it’s still here. Patiently waiting.

It’s almost too much to bear. She tries to look away, but his low, heavy breathing and the sticky suckling of his lips keep drawing her attention. And his eyes, practically burning with raw passion she’s never seen from him before.

“H-Hey, Sanson?” Her breath hitches as his shadow-hands continue to tickle her throbbing clit. “Could you…maybe e-eat me out?” It feels weird to say it so “modernly”, after all this time with Servants. Still, it’s what she really, _really_ needs right now.

He smiles, and his lips pull away with a salacious _pop_. “I hoped you would say that.” Even so, he seems content to feather kisses down her body, licking up droplets of sweat like they’re honey.

Maybe it’s just her imagination, but with every drop he takes in, he seems…stronger somehow. Like he could scoop her up into his arms with ease. And the closer he gets to between her thighs, the more his movements speed up; he can’t wait to get there either.

Ritsuka bites back a moan as he replaces the shadow-hands with his flesh-and-blood fingers, casually ripping a hole in her tights and letting cool air prickle along her dampening panties. The sight of the tip of his tongue wetting his lips is almost hypnotic.

“What an adorable clitoris you have, Master,” he murmurs, his lopsided smile heating her cheeks further. “It’s as eager as you are…I’m glad.” A steady, expert finger circles the outline of her swollen flesh beneath the cotton, turning it wetter still.

“Y-You don’t have to go that far—”

Sanson pauses mid-circle, his silver brows creased in disappointment. “Do you not enjoy it? Very well.”

“Well, no, that’s not…” She fidgets awkwardly, her knee brushing his side. “…I’m just not used to it, is all. I’d like to be, though— _eek_!” She jolts in surprise as he easily hoists her legs up over his shoulders, her feet instinctively flailing for purchase.

“My apologies, Master. Should I change position?”

“Nope,” she says, once she realizes what a great view she has of him sandwiched between her thighs. “S-Sorry, you can go ahead now!”

“Oh, thank goodness.” With that, Sanson dips his head down and very, very gently sniffs at her, his nose bumping up against the seam of her panties. A soft, heart-melting whimper escapes his lips. “Master’s scent…it’s wonderful!”

“Th-thanks.” Ritsuka _tries_ not to rock against his face, but it’s tough not to, with his breath so very close.

Sanson can’t resist either. With frustrating slowness, he delicately maps out her still-clothed mound with hot lips and tongue, from bottom to…agonizing inches from the sweet ache of her clit. “Just a moment,” he assures her, before reverently kissing along the path his tongue just painted. “I merely…” a brief, tantalizing pull of his lips on her folds, “…want to savor each inch of you.”

With each thorough, worshipful touch, Ritsuka’s knees draw up to her chest, exposing her completely. Somehow, that isn’t embarrassing.

What _is_ embarrassing is when Sanson finally pulls her panties aside to swirl his tongue around her swollen, pulsing clit, and rather than a maidenly sigh she grunts low in her throat like it’s mating season. But if anything, that only _encourages_ him. As soon as she starts, he triples his efforts, completely engulfing her whole throbbing sex in wet heat.

“Oh, please,” he pleads between hungry suckling, “use me, Master, _please_ …!”

There’s no way she can withstand those words. Her climax bursts through her like endless waves of fire, sending her rocking frantically against Sanson’s eager tongue.

“Your mana…” He laps hungrily at her opening like he’s going to drain her dry. “…It’s so delicious! More—there’s more, yes?”

And he keeps going, even as her heart feels ready to burst out of her chest, coaxing that fire inside her to burn ever hotter.

Eventually she finds the strength (and need) to gently push his mouth away. “I-I should—touch you, too…!”

He smiles dreamily at her, the lower half of his face sticky and flushed with her juices. “I am honored, Master. Now, how will you have me?”

She sits up, her gaze naturally drawn to his plump and pretty nipples. “These looked like they felt good before; can I have a turn?”

In answer, he takes her by the hand and guides it to his chest, his nipple tickling her palm. “Oh…your skin is so soft,” he murmurs, his breathing heavy and rumbling against her skin. “Yes”—his breathy whimper brings new heat to her belly—“please use both hands. Y-You’re doing excellently.”

As she continues gently teasing the tips of his nipples, his every gasp and shiver serve to deepen the haze of lust she finds herself in. Somewhere in that sweet fog, she registers the heat of his lap beneath her legs. _Closer…that’s good._ It isn’t long before she takes a taut nub past her lips, moaning into the salty taste of him as it sparks on her tongue.

Sanson’s heavy pants gust against her hair. “Master—m-my nipples—may I climax from them?”

Ritsuka hums excitedly and picks up the pace, not caring if she’s being loud as she toys with his nipples. His cries of thanks only spur her on. She revels in his body quaking against hers, the liquid white spilling stickily on her belly, his dreamy look of relief that cradles her heart so gently.

“Feel better now, Sanson? You were seriously backed up!”

“Mm…” He looks at her through half-lidded eyes as she brushes sweat-damp hair back from his face. “…I have more.”

“Er—‘more’?” Sanson nudges her to turn so her back rests against his chest, and she follows easily. “What do you mean?”

“Master,” his whisper-soft question plays along the shell of her ear, “do you know what a ‘refractory period’ is?”

“Sure I do,” Ritsuka says, hyper-aware of his fingers following the slope of her pubic bone to between her legs. Bit by bit, realization begins to dawn on her. “Wait—do you not have one?”

“That was Queen Medb’s finest gift,” he answers with a sultry laugh, one Ritsuka never thought she’d hear. “May I show you the results of my training, Master?”

Head dizzy with the possibilities, she answers him with a greedy bob of her hips.

\---

_It feels good…_

Pale, elegant fingers massaging her until they’re drenched to the knuckle with her juices. A hot tongue leisurely teasing her ear. Firm hips grinding against her backside, reminding her of what pleasure is to come.

How long has it been since they started? An hour? Two? Ten?

“Master…” Sanson chuckles, and Ritsuka’s folds pulse and spread to take in something thick and just pliant enough to be pleasurable. “…That was the third finger. Is it to your liking?”

Ritsuka sighs heatedly, not even minding the sloppy wet sounds flowing from between her legs. “Of course.”

“Excellent.” Sanson’s sweat-damp palm glides against her pulsing clit, coaxing more hot shivers down her spine. “After all—I only wish to please you.”

_It feels so good…!_

Each slow, rhythmic stroke leaves Ritsuka panting for more. “Then—then _screw me_ already!” She tries reaching behind her back to grab his shaft…but he takes her by the wrist with his free hand, the other still ceaselessly fingering her as her reason runs dry.

“I have no intension of merely ‘screwing you’, Master,” he says, pressing a soft kiss to the back of her hand. “I’d rather be your favorite toy.” As slowly as he eased them in, he eases his fingers out of her. The sudden emptiness leaves her yearning for more. “But until then…” His smile feathers against her knuckles. “…I can grant your wish.”

A moment later she’s on her back, the mattress squeaking beneath their combined weight as Sanson kneels between her thighs. Whatever she was about to say floats away like dandelion seeds in the wind as the thick, molten head of his erection nudges her entrance. _It’s happening—it’s actually happening!_

Sanson gasps, and Ritsuka’s heart thrums at the sound. “Ah…Master, your vulva’s so hot inside…!” He lifts his drenched fingers to his mouth, and it’s only then that she can see his pale blue eyes, glazed over with lust like a thawing lake. “And your scent…” His nostrils flare as he takes it in, and he whimpers so sweetly. “…I’m growing light-headed from it.”

“I’m sorry,” she says, like an idiot.

“Why?” The candy-pink tip of his tongue laps at the silvery liquid dripping down his hand. “I _want_ to feel this way.”

What would take several minutes before now takes only moments, as he brings his fingers between his lips and sucks them clean with an almost animalistic hunger. It’s almost a shame—it’s a great view.

“I’m ready,” Ritsuka says, just in case he needs a reminder.

Sanson hums in agreement and covers her body with his far quicker than she expected—but she isn’t complaining. “Yes, that’s it,” he murmurs into her ear, “please let me inside.”

Ritsuka gasps as his swollen tip slowly but surely slips inside her, followed by the deliciously-thick weight of the rest of him. _It’s in!_ The sweet stretch of being filled sends blood roaring in her ears. _It’s in, it’s in,_ her mind keeps babbling, as it tries to comprehend feeling every delicate pulse of his heartbeat against hers. 

“There.” Sanson smiles down at her, already coated in a beguiling sheen of sweat. “Are you comfortable?”

Smiling back at him, she flexes her walls around him in answer. “It’s nice.”

“I see.” He begins to rock inside and against her like he means to leave no part of her wanting. “But I will give you… _much_ more than that…!”

And he does. Rolling his hips in slow, sensual circles, grazing his nipples against hers, giving small thrusts as she rises up like the tide to meet his, worshipping her neck and ears with fevered kisses…

“Climax whenever you like,” he whispers, as their hips grind together greedily.

Of course, even when she _does_ erupt against him in a frenzied explosion of heat, they aren’t done yet. It seems Medb taught him many, many things worth sharing.

“Master…shall I move faster this time?”

On her back, with his hot chest skimming against the curve of her spine.

“Please, play with my toy as much as you like.”

Licking their thick, bitter juices off his sticky tip as he writhes so beautifully under her hands, flushed from head to toe.

“Please, let me climax, I _must_ …!”

Excess ropes of white trickle down her thighs like a parody of pearls—only for him to ease out and lick her clean moments later.

“Yes, ride me harder—!”

Bouncing on his lap, her arms wrapped around his neck as his already-soaked hardness strokes inside her in a lustful frenzy.

“Make me yours, Master…”

Coming over him in a thunderous burst as he feasts on her with irresistible urgency, his fingers digging into her hips _just_ hard enough to leave marks later.

Over and over, until her hips feel ready to give out.

Over and over, Sanson’s passion remains as white-hot yet tender as when they started.

Over and over, as whenever she _thinks_ she’s exhausted…she takes in the wanton haze clouding his eyes, his inviting smile, and finds energy for another round.

\---

“Okay, so…that might’ve been _too_ much mana.” Ritsuka’s tired fingers finally manage to tie her bootlaces correctly. “Lesson learned, right?”

Sanson still isn’t looking at her, even though he’s been impeccably dressed for the past fifteen minutes. His ears are so red they could be seen from a Singularity.

“Look, we need to get breakfast _some_ time this year. Nerofest is still on, remember? Time to show Medb who the real Queen here is!” She pumps her fists just in case Sanson didn’t get it.

He turns his head slightly. “On a scale of one to ten, how would you rate your—”

“Ugh, come _on_ , I’m just a little sore! It’s not like you wore my back out.”

At long last Sanson turns and ambles over to her, looking as composed as ever. “I’m pleased to hear it. On another note, Master…” His smile widens slightly as he reaches out to caress her cheek. “…I can cook you breakfast today, if you wish.”

Ritsuka’s face burns as she glances away, then back at him. “I-I’d like that. And next time, I’ll cook for you, okay?”

“Excellent.” Sanson slips his hands in his pockets. “As for Medb: before we face her again, I ask that you use a Command Seal on me.”

The seriousness of his expression makes Ritsuka steel herself too. “What for?”

Sanson’s brows furrow in thought. “To assuage your jealousy, of course. Or do you not feel it anymore?”

“Well…yeah, I guess I still do.” Ritsuka places a hand over her heart and smiles. “But more than that, I’d rather thank Medb. After all, she helped us figure out our true feelings, right?”

“Hmm. You have a point.” Sanson’s crooked smile returns, a hint of happiness showing in his eyes. “In that case, perhaps we should thank her before the fight.”

Ritsuka nods and leans up, determined to give Sanson a kiss on the cheek at least before they get going. He jolts against her lips as she brushes his soft skin—but he doesn’t turn to stare at the wall this time, so _that’s_ good.

“Once again, thank you, Master.” Bowing elegantly at the waist, Sanson holds out his hand. “Now, shall we go?”

\---

_Heart-pounding Nerofest News, coming to you live from the ever-reliable Da Vinci!_

_In a shocking upset, the Master of Chaldea and her “dearest Assassin” Charles-Henri Sanson have finally defeated Queen Medb after seven failed attempts. Even when Medb used her salacious Chariot My Love on Sanson, it didn’t seem to bring him to his knees like before. How strange…could it be the power of love?! Not even my genius can tell for sure!_

_But_ Medb _certainly seems to think something special happened today, as she stormed out of the arena screaming about her loss was “unfair”, and “not what [she] had planned”. Too bad for her, everyone in the stands knows for a fact that Sanson fought fairly to the end. He and Ritsuka even shook Medb’s hand before the fight! Perhaps that unexpected kindness threw Medb off her game? I suppose we’ll never know, as the two winners left the arena not long after in a big hurry. I hope their celebrations bring the house down!_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! :D Feedback is appreciated.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! Feedback is appreciated. :D


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